It's Not Because I Love You
by DragonFang2016
Summary: Every year, without fail, there is always a present waiting for Gakushuu Asano on his birthday. It's never wrapped, nor addressed to him specifically. It's just there. So, of course, returning the favor is only fair. He's definitely not doing it because he loves his father. Perish the thought.


DISCLAIMER: I do not own Assassination Classroom.

* * *

 **It's Not Because I Love You**

* * *

Every year, without fail, there was always a present waiting for Gakushuu Asano on his birthday.

Sometimes, it would be in front of his bedroom door. Sometimes, it was on the kitchen counter. Or the dining room table. Other times, it was on his favorite chair in the living room. And then there was that one strange year he found it taped to the ceiling in the hallway, just waiting to be retrieved via chair (just _what_ was that man thinking?).

Always unwrapped.

He never said happy birthday. He hardly even acknowledged the gifts. And Asano never brought them up.

They don't celebrate Christmas. The only time Asano could expect a present from his father was on New Year's, which was his birthday. An unfortunate coincidence, not that Asano cared whether or not anyone wished him "Happy Birthday!" instead of "Happy New Year!" The day he was born was of no importance. What _was_ important were the things he accomplished after the day he was born. He would have thought that his father would think the same way, but, no. The man still gave him presents. It was one of the very few fatherly things he did.

In Asano's opinion, the gifts themselves were more like challenges than proper presents. After all, what use would they be if the owner didn't even know how to use them?

* * *

For his sixth birthday, he got a soccer ball, even though he had no idea how to play the game. After school and his lessons, he practiced with his father—after all, trying to hit the man in the face with a ball seemed like a great way to pass the time—and proceeded to win several soccer tournaments that year, because kids were fodder compared to the ruthless superhuman who had trained him. Soccer became his favorite sport.

But not because it was the first sport that his father ever encouraged him to commit himself to.

That would be ridiculous.

* * *

On his eighth birthday, he received a beautiful, handwritten, handmade novel with detailed illustrations. It was entirely in French—a language that he was not familiar with. He never did find out whether his father made the book himself—the man certainly had the linguistic and artistic abilities to do it—but it didn't matter. A year later, he was finally able to read it, having mastered the language just for that purpose. The book had since been his favorite.

But not because it was the first book his father had ever given him that wasn't an educational one.

What an absurd notion.

* * *

So, it was only fair to reciprocate his father's strange methods of showing his affection (or could that even be called affection?). When he was twelve, Asano found himself asking his devoutly Catholic grandmother—from his mother's side, since his father never once mentioned his own family—to send him money for Christmases and birthdays instead of presents. Despite the two events being only a week apart from each other, Grandma Courtney never skimped on gifts like other people did. She always made sure that Asano got enough for both.

The first gift he bought for his father was a blood-red tie. It wasn't special nor expensive, but Gakushuu had liked the color and thought that his father would, too.

It was only fair.

On April 12, he presented his gift it to him. His father did not look surprised—maybe Grandma Courtney told him about Asano's request and being the shrewd man he was, he had probably figured out the reason behind it.

"I appreciate the gesture, Asano-kun, but it was a completely unnecessary one," he had said sternly. "In the future, I would advise that you spend your money on things for yourself—after all, you _are_ in junior high now."

But he accepted the tie anyway.

Asano felt giddy. There was a certain warmth in his father's words and in his father's eyes that he was not used to hearing or seeing.

He found that he rather liked it.

* * *

On his thirteenth birthday, his father gave him nothing.

Or so Asano thought, until he found a riddle inside his closet. The blasted thing took him nearly two hours to solve, and he ended up staring at yet another riddle in the park two blocks away. There must've been five more riddles after that, each written in a different language (he was certain that his father was a sadist). The last one took him to a self-storage unit across town, which held a brand-new bicycle to ride back home on.

As embarrassing as it was, he'd never ridden a bicycle before, but it was an interesting experience, learning how to ride it by himself. It only took him five minutes of cursing and skinned knees until he managed to pedal and stop without toppling over. Then, he was off, the cold winter wind threading through his hair and nipping at his cheeks until they turned red. His nose started running, but that didn't matter as much as the rush of adrenaline buzzing through his veins did.

"You'll have to work if you want something, Asano-kun." That was all that his father had said when he saw him the next day at breakfast, not even bothering to glance up from his morning newspaper.

On his thirteenth birthday, his father gave him an adventure.

So, for _his_ birthday, Asano gave him a shock. Or rather, forty shocks. Not because he didn't think that his father couldn't solve them (he finished all of them in what, ten minutes?), but because he could. And he really wanted to. And because the look of surprise on his father's face when he came home to forty unsolved Rubik's cubes strewn across the entrance hall floor was completely worth it.

* * *

This year, Asano was fifteen.

And there really was nothing for him.

Not that he looked.

He wasn't particularly upset—okay, maybe he was. A little bit.

Maybe it was because he hadn't placed first in the second semester finals this year. Asano felt a knot of gut-wrenching disappointment sitting at the bottom of his stomach like a rock. He was still not completely over that defeat. It plagued him before he slept, making him toss and turn in his bed until he fell into a restless sleep. He knew that it was silly—that he was being silly—but he couldn't help but agonize over what went wrong.

Three points.

That was what went wrong.

A loud knock on his door interrupted his thoughts—it was his father, he knew. The maid always knocked softly, but his father never hesitated to make his presence known. It was just the kind of man he was.

"Asano-kun, I've reserved a table at Shino's. If you're not ready in ten minutes, I'm leaving without you."

Asano smiled.

* * *

His father wasn't the best father, but he wasn't the worst, either.

He praised him when he succeeded, punished him when he failed, and never raised a hand to him in violence. Not intentionally, anyway. He made his expectations clear—get perfect scores, always be number one, rise above your peers.

Be strong.

Always, _always_ be strong.

Strong enough to kick your father down.

It was simple.

Asano had little experience with the matters of the heart. Gakuhou Asano was hardly a loving parent. In fact, he was hardly a parent at all. He was a teacher first, and a father second. He pushed. He pushed a lot. Sometimes, he pushed too much. So much that it would become unbearable. Had Gakushuu Asano been anyone else, he would've hated the way he was brought up, but since he was, well, he didn't really mind. Nothing about their relationship was normal—or, at least, from an outside perspective, it wasn't. That was how it was.

Sure, their relationship was a bit chilly.

Sure, Asano often wished that he had a real father.

And, sure, he remembered that once upon a time, they were on much better terms with each other, a long time ago. So long ago that his memories of those days were covered by a haze of fuzz and white static. So long ago that he'd almost forgotten what it sounded like when his father said his first name.

Perhaps twelve years was a bit late to begin patching up their relationship.

But it was better to start late than to never start at all.

* * *

Hey, my first AssClass oneshot! Hope you liked!

Asano's a tsundere. So is the Chairman. I love them both so much (but I prefer the Chairman).

I'm not condoning the Chairman's parenting. At all. He's emotionally negligent, abusive, and manipulative, and it's his fault that Asano became so messed up. To Asano, his relationship with his father is normal, and that's why he doesn't say anything about it. I hardly think that Gakuhou's a fair parent, but in Asano's eyes, he is, more or less. That's kind of sad.

But at least they're trying to make amends now.


End file.
